


Praying For A Miracle

by Vanessa_Cocotea



Category: Doctor Who: Eighth Doctor Adventures - Various Authors, Garfield - All Media Types
Genre: Adventure, Gen, Rescue, Some Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-13
Updated: 2014-04-13
Packaged: 2018-01-19 06:42:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,085
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1459732
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vanessa_Cocotea/pseuds/Vanessa_Cocotea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>From 2007:</p><p>A terrifying journey far from home, force-feeding and Beetles...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Praying For A Miracle

**Author's Note:**

> This is the story referenced in my other story, "Air Quality". And Eight is going by a variation of my favourite alias of his from "Seeing I" - James Alistair Bowman. He's just using "Alistair Bowman".

He crawled into a box that was tipped over on its side. At least it would afford him some cover from the rain. Trust him to get a valuable afternoon, spent looking for a few new places for his favourite meal, ruined by a sudden rainstorm. "Humph!" He thought. "Can't a guy enjoy the hunt without something going wrong? Strange country. Sheesh." He settled down to wait - and fell asleep. Not an uncommon occurrence with this one.

Many hours later, he woke to the sound of some very strange voices. He didn't understand a word! It was bad enough before, what with all the unfamiliar terminology, but this was a whole new language! He crawled out of the box. At least it had stopped raining. Dull grey sky, but no rain. That was something. But where was he? And was this anywhere to spend Christmas? Christmas alone. He was not amused, but he was hungry as usual. He started walking.

He walked for hours and didn't see one suitable place for his favourite meal. Some people petted him. Some people actually kicked him out of the way! There were a few places where - when he made himself known at the back door, gave him what he assumed was meant to be food. One offering looked like a fish head, for Heaven's sake! Did they expect him to eat that?! He gave it an experimental nibble and nearly threw up. When the owner of the place went back inside, he took off. He'd been given strange little dry log-shaped things, weird wet gloppy stuff, you name it! Anything but real food. Didn't ANYBODY in this place know what food was? The only even remotely suitable thing he'd had was a saucer of milk. At this rate, he'd start losing weight and fast! He MUST have somethings ITALIAN! He wanted it here and he wanted it now! He was miserable. How did he get here and where was here? He missed his owner. He missed his favourite toy and he even missed his companion. He must be in bad shape, if he missed that one! But, most of all, he missed his favourite meal.

He kept walking. It was getting even colder. He heard voices in the distance - children's voices. He turned in their direction. Just over a small hill, there was a group of children playing. They were sledging down the hill, building a snowman and having a snowball fight. Suddenly he flew through the air with a loud "WHOOF!" - caught by an enormous errant snowball! He landed flat on his back in a pile of coal, carrots, wet mittens and a wet woolen scarf - all things the children were using to finish off their snowman. He howled and the children screamed. One boy yelled, "Where'd that mangy cat come from?" The "mangy" cat softly growled, thinking, "Mangy? Him? How dare they call him "mangy"!" But before he had time to get out of the extremely uncomfortable pile, a little girl scooped him up, and nearly squishing the life out of him, said, "Aww! Is the pwitty widdle orange kitty cold? Here, this will make you feel all better." She then proceeded to feed him hot chocolate from her thermos! She held the startled cat's mouth open and poured the hot liquid down his throat! He freaked and leapt out of her arms, gasping, and frantically started to eat snow to cool his poor mouth down! One of the boys stopped laughing long enough to say:

"Are you DAFT, Lucy? Cats don't drink hot chocolate!" The cat was surprised! It seemed that all these kids spoke some sort of English. It was a start. If only he could communicate with them.

Lucy's face started to crumple. "I just wanted to warm him up. It wasn't that hot. I'm sorry, kitty." She paused and looked round. The cat was gone. "Where'd he go?" Then they heard a distinct howling! Human and feline. There, racing down the hill on a sledge, was the cat and one of the other boys. The boy, Trevor, looked positively gleeful. The cat looked positively terrified and clung to Trevor's jacket with all twenty claws! His tail stuck straight up - frozen with fear!

Julian, the one who'd laughed at the cat's first taste of hot chocolate, bellowed, "TREVOR! What the bloody hell you doing?" He rushed over to the pair at the bottom of the hill. "Are you lot trying to kill the poor thing? First, you're feeding him hot chocolate and now you're sending him down a hill at lightening speed in the freezing cold! You're either trying to kill him or send him to cat "Bedlam"!" Julian looked round. This time the cat had really gone. "Now why doesn't that surprise me?" He shook his head. The other children stifled their laughter.

The cat wobbled off, partly due to his bizarre trip down the hill and, also, to the fact that he was quite a chubby feline. But he probably wouldn't be fat for long, if he didn't get some decent food soon. Hot chocolate? Never again - at least not like that! He continued walking. This was turning out to be the most rotten Christmas ever. He wanted to go home. He was so busy contemplating his fate, that he walked across a road and nearly got run over by a snowplough!

"What the Dickens?" The driver slammed on the brakes and leapt out of the right side of the cab. He walked round to the front of his vehicle. It was actually a tractor fitted with a snowplough in front and the man was a local farmer. "Now how in the name of Isis did a cat like you get way out here?" He picked up the frightened freezing cat and put him in the cab of his tractor. "You can come back with me for now and stay in my barn. I'm afraid the Missus wouldn't have you in the house. Nothing personal, but we don't know where you came from. Ain't got no phone. A bit later, I'll go down to the village post office and put a notice up." He pulled up in the yard in front of the barn. "Out you go, lad." He put the cat down on the hay, where he promptly fell asleep. The farmer smiled and went inside his cottage.

The cat was sleeping reasonably well, considering that he was starving and that he was dreaming of his favourite food. Still, he was out of the wind and the barn was far warmer than he thought it would be. He thought he'd heard the farmer say something about getting him something to eat, but before he could know for sure, he was brutally woken up by the most awful squawking! Several ducks were waddling in his direction, making the most frightful racket. He backed away. What had he done to deserve this? No decent food and now he wasn't even allowed to sleep! This was just getting worse. Would he ever see home again? Would he ever tuck into that wonderful food again? The ducks seemed to be satisfied that he wasn't a problem. So he tried to go back to sleep, only to be woken again, this time by angry barking! He looked up to see the angriest dog he'd ever seen, barging into the barn! Outside, a voice hollered, "OSCAR! PUT A SOCK IN IT!" Oscar didn't listen. He came at the newcomer. The newcomer ran and ran and ran...

...straight into the road again! This time, into the path of a maroon Volkswagen Beetle. The man driving, slammed on the brakes and got out. This was getting to be a habit, nearly getting run over! And he was getting heartily sick of it! Who was the deranged idiot who said the country was PEACEFUL? He started to back away from the man - then looked at him. He saw gentle blue eyes in a kind face framed with curly shoulder-length chestnut hair. He hesitated. The man smiled and picked him up, ever so tenderly. "Well, my fine fellow, it looks like you are certainly lost and you look like you've been in the wars! You'd best come home with me and we can go about trying to locate your owner." He put the cat in his car and took him to a very nice looking cottage.

Inside it was wonderfully warm. The man put him in front of the fireplace on some soft blankets. "There now, you just have a nice rest. I'll see if I can sort you out something good to eat." He looked at the cat. "You look strangely familiar. Don't see a name tag...just a minute...there's something tucked inside your collar." He fished it out. "Good Heavens! I've heard of you! Garfield! I'm pleased to meet you, sir!" The man shook one of Garfield's paws. "Alistair Bowman. At your service! How did you get way out here, for Heaven's sake?" He bent down. There was a scrap of paper on the floor. He picked it up. "This looks like part of a shipping label. I would guess you somehow wound up in a shipping carton, is that it?" Garfield smiled at him. "Well, I can telephone John and get you reunited! In the meantime, I know you're hungry, but the cooker's packed up. So while I can't fix you any lasagna till it's mended, I do have a microwave. I can do you a pizza - thin crust. Is that okay?" Garfield smiled again. "Right. One large thin crust pizza coming up!" Alistair took off for the kitchen. Garfield sighed. Pizza would be fine. At least it was Italian. And his new friend would get hold of John and John would take him home, or at least to a good Italian place in London, where he could eat lasagna to his heart's content.

Alistair came in with the pizza and put it before Garfield. Within two minutes, it was gone! "Wow! You really do eat fast! I've called John. I forgot you were all in England. I rang your home in the states, as that was the number on your tag. The message sent me to your hotel in London. John's on his way. He was quite surprised to find you'd got to the Outer Hebrides! You're lucky I'm here on holiday and found you." He looked at Garfield's upturned smiling face. "Don't tell me, you'd like another pizza?" Garfield's smile got even broader. "Your wish is my command!" In minutes, Garfield was ploughing his way through another large pizza. Then he slept.

He awoke to see John, standing in Alistair's lounge, smiling at him. Odie was panting behind John, holding Pookie in his mouth. Garfield lunged for the bear and hugged him for dear life! John picked Garfield up and did the same thing to him! "Hey there, buddy, I thought I'd lost you! How did you get clear out here?" Alistair spoke up. "There was a bit of a shipping label stuck in his collar. He appears to have wound up in a shipping carton somehow."

"Oh, Garfield. I'll bet you were off on one of restaurant hunts, got caught in that downpour and hid in a carton, then, accidentally, got shipped here! What an adventure!" "You don't know the half of it!" thought Garfield.

John continued, "Let's get you back to London and take you to the finest Italian restaurant there and you can eat all the lasagna you want!" He turned to Alistair. "Thank you, sir! I'm grateful for all you've done for him. How can I repay you?"

Alistair smiled. "It was my pleasure, I assure you! It's an honour to meet the world's most famous cat! It's an honour to meet all of you. You don't owe me anything. I was glad to help. Just see he has a great lasagna-filled Christmas, okay?"

"I can certainly guarantee that!" They shook hands. Alistair bent down to pet Garfield and Odie goodbye. He even patted Pookie on the head. Alistair had a teddy himself. He knew how precious they were. Then Garfield and his family left to go back to London. Alistair waved to them from his door. They waved back.

Christmas Day found Garfield and company in the finest Italian restaurant in London, where they spent the whole day watching Garfield eat one pan of lasagna after another! It turned out to be a great Christmas after all.

The End


End file.
